


no kinder sign of love

by olavidalo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olavidalo/pseuds/olavidalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bloody artsy types; always with the kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no kinder sign of love

**Author's Note:**

> I. Neither beta'ed nor britpicked nor, uh, Irishpicked (?) Additionally: false, impossible, untrue.  
> II. Title from 2 Henry IV 1.1: _I can express no kinder sign of love, than this kind kiss._  
> 

 

 

 

i.

Zayn comes over around 3 looking like he's chewing marbles. Niall pushes his faltering English essay to the side and starts up FIFA. Looks like it's gonna be one of those days.  
  
'You've kissed a lot of girls, yea?' Zayn mumbles, finally, after half-heartedly trouncing Niall for the fourth time in a row. God's way of rewarding him for being shit at footy in real life, Niall reckons.  
  
'Not really,' he says. Zayn gives him a flat look. 'Maybe a few,' he concedes. 'Why?'  
  
'No reason,' says Zayn, glowering at Niall's dad's rug. He starts a new game with a tic in his jaw.  
  
Half-way through getting creamed by _Barça_ , Niall's hit by a bolt of desperation: 'Oh, hey, you were supposed to hang out with Nina today, right?'  
  
Zayn twitches intensely, bites his bottom lip, and then tosses his controller to the side. 'Don't, ah. don't hit me, okay?' he whispers, eyes huge. Then he lunges, lips outstretched.  
  
And yea, Niall's thought about kissing him before -- to know Zayn is to want him, or something -- but never did he imagine it would be this sudden. Or this... _messy_.  
  
'Weh-ow,' Niall says, breathlessly, 'that was--' Even his _forehead_ feels bruised. It's a bit amazing, in its own way!  
  
'Awful. I know,' Zayn says, misery incarnate.  
  
'I wouldn't say it was _aw_ -ful,' Niall hedges. Zayn gives him another flat look. 'Though the description does have its charms!'  
  
Zayn's face falls. He stands up, shoulders taut, shuffles out of reach without looking directly at Niall. 'I should go,' he says, clearing his throat. He goes reddish when Niall leans up on his elbows. 'I--Sorry.' And then he darts out the door before Niall can say anything.  
  
The next day, Niall sees Zayn kissing Nina during their lunch break -- closemouthed, and a little bit stiff, but with a sweet, intent smile.  
  
Good for him! really.

 

 

 

ii.

'Where have you be-en,' Niall sings, loud-ish, for the hour, 'cus I never see you ou-u-ut. Are you hidin' from me-yeh? Somewhere in the...' He scrunches up his face, takes a moment to appreciate Rihanna's enunciation. And general form.  
  
'Crowd,' Harry supplies helpfully, if a little absently. He's been looking over his shoulder at the door every few minutes. Tonight the lads are set to meet his mysterious girlfriend. His mysterious girlfriend, who turns out to be not all that mysterious after all. Nor much of a girlfriend.  
  
'Hey,' murmurs Zayn, easy and intimate. He gives Harry another greeting kiss; beside Niall, Sean mumbles in vaguely drunken disbelief.  
  
'--Zayn!' Niall says, belatedly, still stuck somewhere six years in the past. Zayn's gotten heaps better at kissing though.  
  
Zayn peers at him -- really grew into his cheekbones, that one!!! -- then lights up. 'Niall!' he returns, then leans forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek, gloves gripping warm on the side of his jaw and the back of his head. 'Harry talks about you all the time. Never would've thought you'd be my Niall.'  
  
'Course I am,' Niall says, beaming. Thank Christ for braces! Zayn half-smiles, lightly jiggle-pinches Niall's chin. He looks like he might kiss him again - but then Harry tugs him backwards to his side of the booth, starts whispering in his ear. Clear closed door if ever Niall saw one.  
  
Bloody artsy types, he thinks, fondly, later, after Zayn kisses and hugs him goodbye; always with the kissing.

 

 

 

iii.

_can i cm ovr xx :)_  
  
Niall sits up on the couch, bleary-eyed, flinching at the bright blue of his mobile screen. _sure !!!_  
  
He tidies up, takes the trash out while he's waiting for Harry and Zayn to arrive. It's not that he minds living with Louis most days; it's just that he sometimes leaves an enormous mess in shared spaces. So whenever they've unexpected company -- Lou's theatre troupe friends, Liam/El, the landlord -- they always tend to assume that both of them are still clinging to that bachelor uni lifestyle. It's not so bad, most of it's in Lou's room - but every so often Niall will wake up between shifts to a living room or kitchen he doesn't recognise, and no sign of the parties responsible. It's not that he minds cleaning, exactly; it's just that it can get frustrating, is all.  
  
It's colder out than he thought: he takes the stairs three at a time on the way up, too cold to really pay his knee any mind.  
  
Outside his door, Zayn's slumped forward, looking limp and miserable. Niall can smell the alcohol on him two doors away. Hopefully Harry didn't let him drive in this condition! Hang on...Niall glances around. Where is Harry?  
  
He's starting to get a funny feeling in his stomach. Like...a weird bit of premonition. '--Zayn?' he whispers, placing an arm round his lower back.  
  
Zayn turns his face without looking up, collapses wordlessly into Niall's side. 'Hey, whoa, sh, shh,' Niall soothes frantically, idiotically, hurrying them both inside. That answers the question of where Harry's at, then.  
  
''l'fwl,' Zayn slurs, teartracks white (and frozen?) on his face. He clutches at the back of Niall's tee when he tries to lay him out on the couch, pulls Niall down awkwardly along with him. Guess he won't be washing his hands any time soon.  
  
'Oof,' he says, looking at Zayn's puffed-up eyes. _xx :)_ definitely hadn't prepared him for this. Zayn glances sideways at him, swallows with a click.  
  
'I didn't know where else to go,' he says, over-enunciating, like his words are shards of glass among his teeth. 'Don't mean to be a bother.'  
  
'Hey, you're no bother, mate,' Niall whispers, sorry and sad. He readjusts the two of them so Zayn can hide out under his arm for a bit, presses a quick kiss to the side of his forehead when Zayn looks at him gratefully.  
  
Zayn, ever the master of falling asleep in inconvenient positions, is out in 10 minutes. Niall, meanwhile, is awake for the night. He watches the sky outside the window get lighter and lighter, blinks - and sleeps all the way through his first shift. He's woken up by Louis accidentally upending a bowl of Froot Loops on his head.  
  
'Sorry!' Louis says, pulling on his jacket while Niall groggily takes in the fact that he's over four hours late. So - no rush, then. 'Don't move a muscle, I'll clean _everything_ , I just need to run out and pick something up. Be back in a bit!'  
  
Last night comes back in a slow rush. Zayn must've snuck out sometime this morning, before Lou came in. Niall ignores the twinge in his neck, tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. Cool milk runs down the back of his shirt.  
  
'Don't move!' Louis shouts. The front door slams.  
  
He's got to get out of here.

 

 

 

iv.

On the screen, the man in blue bends low over the hand of the woman in blue. He kisses her hand fervently, staring up at her with some daring.  
  
That's probably the modern day equivalent of giving head, Niall figures, chewing absently on his nails. (Did British people even give head back then? Or did they just--bow at each other in the bedroom?)  
  
'Oh Mr Arden,' says the woman in blue breathlessly.  
  
'Oh Mr Arden, oh Mr Arden,' Zayn mocks, in a high, breathy falsetto. Between them, Saf stirs in her sleep a little. Niall reaches over her and grabs Zayn's hand, kisses it five times before letting go.  
  
Zayn is quiet until his dad calls everyone down for dinner. Niall's too embarrassed to look at him.  
  
On their way to the kitchen sink, Zayn nudges him and grins at the holly/mistletoe arrangement his mum only just finished wreathing. 'Oh Mr Hor-an,' he says, and he flutters his eyelashes.  
  
'Shut up,' says Niall, face red.

 

 

 

v.

Niall staggers to the bathroom sometime after midnight, remembering only after he crawls back under the covers that Zayn never managed to make it back to his own room.  
  
Zayn slits his eyes open. Niall swallows. 'Hey,' he whispers. He can hear his heart in his ears.  
  
'Hey,' Zayn says, hoarsely. He stares at Niall without blinking for a long moment - then he leans over and kisses him, full on the mouth.  
  
Thank God Niall thought to brush his teeth!  
  
After a long, lazy kiss, Zayn leans back and stares at Niall suspiciously. 'You taste like mint,' he says, licking his lips.  
  
Zayn's mouth tastes a bit like sour milk. 'You definitely do not,' Niall says, laughing, and then he leans in again anyway.

 

 


End file.
